


Say So

by wrendering



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: An excuse to write him flirt that kinda turned into smut, Blackwatch Jesse McCree, Cumplay, Cunnilingus, F/M, Fluff, Jesse McCree is good at flirting but so bad at it too, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Pre-Fall of Overwatch, Semi-Public Sex, Smut, Wall Sex, blowjob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:15:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23791432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wrendering/pseuds/wrendering
Summary: Jesse McCree.Always good-looking, always an incorrigible charmer, and sometimes a pain in the ass. For some reason, he keeps coming to your office at all hours, with everything from scratches to bruises to 'holy shit, why didn't you get medical attention earlier McCree, what the hell is wrong with you?'.Even so, you don't really mind. How could you, when he looks at you like that?
Relationships: Jesse McCree/Reader
Comments: 24
Kudos: 299





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I have other ongoing works that I have to edit and upload to. And yes, I did take some time out of my day to whip out this McCree piece, as a testament to my silently lurking love of Overwatch.

Your section of the medbay was silent for the first time since the start of your shift, with the clock showing a cheerful 0300. Slumping onto your chair, you decided it was high time to start reading up on those papers your coworkers had forwarded you. Any time free of patching up Overwatch agents pretty much had to be dedicated to study and research – nothing stayed the same in the field of medicine, it was the responsibility of medical staff to keep up, so on and so forth. In other words, you had to do your homework or else you might fuck up.

“This a bad time?”

_Oh, for_ crying _out loud._

You didn’t have to turn your head to know who it was; the thick southern drawl and genteel cadence was far too familiar.

Spinning on your chair to face Jesse McCree, you couldn’t help but say, “Does it matter?”

Dr. Ziegler would scold you for your bedside manner, but over the past six months, the Blackwatch agent had formed a habit of showing up as often as he could to be stitched back together and irritate the poor attending physicians.

Well, not attending physicians, plural. Somehow, he only ever made sure that he came to annoy _you_.

“Don’t exactly choose when to get into these scrapes, doc.” Not even a hint of contrition was in his voice as he removed his ever-present holster and hopped up on the examination table.

You supposed it was good that he came so willingly. It could’ve been worse – wrangling McCree while he was already in the office was a monumental job in itself; you couldn’t imagine having to drag him into the medbay like _some_ of the others, the agents who treated dislocations like papercuts.

Sighing, you dropped your stuff and went to wash your hands. “What’s the problem this time?”

There was movement behind you, but no answer.

“McCree?” Turning around, you were aghast but not surprised to see him with a cigar and a lighter in his hand. Striding towards him before he could light up, you pulled the damn thing out of his mouth and tossed it into the bin. “How many times…no smoking in my office. And now I have to wash my hands _again,_ so you better sit there and behave.”

“Oh, c’mon, doc. All you medical types are always talking ‘bout relieving tension and all.”

“Increasing your blood pressure is pretty much the antithesis of what we talk about when relieving tension, McCree.” Snapping your gloves on, you walked back to the examination table.

All you got was a small shrug and an unrepentant response. “A good cigar’s a good cigar.”

Despite being told off like a schoolchild, he was still sporting that infamous lopsided smile that sent both junior and senior agents alike into a tizzy.

“Oh, really? I’ll have to write that down in case you forget.” Your sarcastic response got a good, almost too loud belly laugh from him. Part of your mind appreciated that he had a sense of humor, but the other, more analytic part immediately spotted the way he flinched a little at the movement.

“Alright, take—and _no smart remarks_ —your shirt off.”

To your surprise, he did just that, with nary a comment about buying him dinner first, baring his equally infamous torso.

_Well, that’s not great._

Whistling through your teeth, you took in the damage. Dark, angry stretches of deep purple splotched across parts of his chest and stomach; knowing him, there was a pretty high chance of broken ribs.

Frowning, you walked behind him to assess the rest of the damage. Once you completed your short circuit, you pulled out the portable x-ray and placed it next to him.

If you were right about your initial assessment – and you were fairly sure you were – he’d been walking around with that injury for at least a day. Blasted agents and their masochism. The Blackwatch division in particular had a tendency to forgo post-mission checkups in favor of, well, doing anything else.

“McCree, if O’Deorain doesn’t patch you up on field, you’re supposed to get your injuries checked _straight_ after coming back to base. Sit up, I’m going to do a manual check now; scale of one to ten, alright?”

Technically, you could go right ahead and just do the x-ray, but thoroughness was important.

“Last time I checked, doc—that’s a one, right there—I was on this exam table, doing exactly that.”

If he said it was a one, it was probably a three. Tutting to yourself, you continued your gentle probing of his torso, all while saying, “Well, you just got back yesterday from a 24-hour mission, McCree. So why are these bruises at least a day old, huh? Don’t lie to me without checking the math, it won’t work.”

When your less than gentle reprimand was met with silence, you pulled back and picked up the x-ray once more.

“Alright, you know what happens next,” you said. Thank goodness for Dr. Ziegler and her continued insistence on instant feedback in the medbay’s machines. Far too often, field agents took the state-of-the-art instruments for granted.

Not McCree, though. From the little snippets he’d told you, his previous medical ‘set-up’ took a while to come up to snuff. That probably explained some of the scars criss-crossing his body, the ones that were clearly mementos of shoddy stitches and half-baked procedures.

_Focus._

Looking at the display, you immediately saw that he had at least four cracked ribs. “Well, McCree, you’re lucky that they didn’t shatter, or else your lungs would look like swiss cheese right now.”

“So it’s only _McCree_ bad, huh?”

The hell was he talking about?

“Sorry, what?”

“You call me agent when it’s just a scrape, y’know. Then it’s McCree when it’s a little less pretty, and when it’s _real_ bad, it’s Jesse. And then that one time when poor little me was hungover and needed an IV drip, you called me by my full name.”

Taken aback at McCree’s surprisingly specific observations, you went to a shelf and grabbed an instant ice-pack. His memory was a lot more exact than you’d expected; you’d almost forgotten that little incident, almost three weeks ago now. But with his prompting, the details came flooding back.

“Not sure you were hungover that time, McCree. Lean back for me.” Cracking the pack, you waited for it to freeze; it would only take a minute.

McCree’s little gasp made you look at him with worry— _shit, did I miss something?—_ before you realized that he was just being dramatic. Posing with the palm of his hand on his cheek, he said, “Are you implyin’ that I’m _lyin’,_ doc?”

The silly rendition of a 20th century heroine in a Western got to you. Laughing, you found yourself wanting to stick your tongue out at him, like some teenager. “I only meant that you weren’t hungover, McCree, because you were still pretty tipsy when you came in—”

“ _Hey_ now _—_ ”

“—and by tipsy, I mean _very_ drunk. I’m surprised you can even remember coming into my office. You talk a _lot_ when you’re sloshed, you know.”

At that, he shut up, looking more embarrassed than you’d ever seen him before. Taking the silence as an opportunity, you gently pressed the ice pack to his ribs.

“Keep this on, it’ll reduce the swelling and help with the bruises. It would be better if you let your body heal at it’s own pace, but if you need to be field-ready soon, come back and someone’ll fix you up. And make sure you don’t do anything strenuous in the meantime, yadda yadda…legally, I have to tell you that but you won’t listen anyway, so. Try not to get busted up too badly. I know all about the dick measuring contests you all have in the gym.”

“Sure thing, doc,” he replied, and you knew, in your heart of hearts, that he wasn’t about to follow your instructions. The man probably had a training session lined up with Shimada in the next few hours, disregarding all sound medical advice and plain common sense.

“That’s all, I think. Unless there’s anything else?”

McCree shifted, and an involuntary tingle ran down your spine as his hand rested over yours.

“Think that’s all, doc.”

_He’s so warm._

Like any good doctor, you gave a friendly smile, retracted your hand, and squashed down the errant thought as mercilessly as you could. Luckily, you were saved by your traitor brain when he donned his shirt and you could start to fuss over equipment that hadn’t even been touched.

“So I talk a lot when I drink, huh?”

You were holding a syringe, for some reason, so it was only natural to brush off a non-existent speck of dust – it was important to be clean and organized. “You’re still on that? You talk a lot in general. I heard Shimada pretended he couldn’t speak English for your first few missions together.”

McCree was still on the examination table, still a little distant. In fact, you were almost sure that he looked worried. “What’d I say?”

That was odd. It was very unlike McCree to agonize over anything that came out of his mouth around you. Maybe he was worried he’d said something about one of Blackwatch’s increasingly clandestine missions.

Calling up the memory, you recalled how he stumbled into your office at four in the afternoon _,_ reeking of whiskey and smoke and his favorite cologne. “Honestly, everything you said was either in Spanish or barely recognizable English. I wouldn’t worry too much – all your secrets are safe.”

Reassured, McCree slung on his holster and tipped his hat. Anyone else would’ve looked like a complete dork, but somehow, the damn cowboy made it look charming.

“Well, thanks for patching me up, doc. I’ll see you around.”

“See you, McCree.”

When all was quiet and you were alone, you returned to your reading, a small smile on your face.

* * *

Not _four_ hours later, you ground your teeth as Jesse _fucking_ McCree trooped back in with a silent Shimada in tow, complaining that his injury ‘inexplicably’ got worse.

“What did I _just_ …Shimada, stop smirking, unless _you_ want to be the one to explain to Reyes why McCree’s ribs have more cracks than shitty concrete! Don’t you—”

* * *

A few weeks after that, you were finally on a rotation that meant you were awake during normal, human daytime hours. Sitting down in the mess hall with your lunch, it took all of thirty seconds before someone plopped themselves down across from you.

Focused on buttering your roll to perfection, you said, “Is the sky falling, Nguyen? The last time you were early for—McCree.”

There he was, leaning against the table with an apple and flashing you a grin, like grabbing lunch was something you two did every day.

“What a surprise, doc. Been missing your pretty face.”

For what was probably the hundredth time, you wondered how McCree went through life so shamelessly – and then you saw what he was doing. Using the handle of your butter knife, you swatted his fingers away from your tray.

“Hey, I can _see_ you trying to sneak yourself some curly fries. And you came into my office two days ago, McCree, stop trying to flirt your way into my lunch.”

Giving a snort, McCree took back his hand. “Oh, _now_ you can see when someone’s flirting _,_ can you?”

Oh God, how did McCree know about the thing with the intern? Whatever he’d heard was probably exaggerated beyond recognition – you scrambled to set the story straight.

“Look, he was pretty much a kid and all he did was ask questions about my research, how the hell was I supposed to _know_ that he was going to ask me—”

“What?”

The look of sheer confusion on his face had you slapping your hand to your forehead. Shit, you’d just opened yourself up to the teasing you’d been hoping to avoid.

“…nevermind,” you muttered.

McCree leaned forward on his elbows, making a show of folding his fingers underneath his chin. “No, no, it was an interesting story. Not ‘xactly what I was talking ‘bout, but there’s time.”

Whenever his accent got thicker like that, it meant that he was needling you. Well, you weren’t going to be cowed into embarrassing yourself even more.

“I _said_ nevermind _._ ” Putting on your best affronted look, you mimicked him, leaning forwards.

A shadow of something crossed his face, but it was far too quick to discern what it was. Was he annoyed that you were being so curt with him? It wasn’t like that’d ever bothered him before.

Before you could ask what was up, he pulled out a cigar.

“ _For_ —really, McCree? In the middle of the goddamn mess hall?”

One end was already between his lips, and he gave a half shrug as he dug around his pockets for a lighter. “Like I’ve said before, doc, helps with the tension.”

“What, now I’m the one who makes you tense?”

Another half shrug. “If you don’t know, you don’t know.”

_That_ caught your curiosity. This brand of cryptic wasn’t a habit that McCree often indulged in. Not with you, at least.

“What are you—”

“McCree!”

The gruff voice cut through the air as both of you jumped; at the same time, McCree spat out his cigar. It was hard not to laugh at McCree’s sudden resemblance to a guilty student as Commander Reyes came up behind him.

“There are smoking areas in this facility, and the mess hall is _not_ one of them.”

You saw, with some amusement, that there was the faintest trace of a blush creeping up McCree’s neck.

“Yes, sir.”

Reyes’ face was unreadable as he turned his gaze to you. “Are you one of Ziegler’s?”

You gave a confirmation, as well as your name, and you could’ve sworn you saw the corners of his lips tilt up just a fraction.

“Ah, I’ve heard of you. I’ve been meaning to thank you for your work on my agents. Been reading the reports from your department – seems that they frequent your office quite a bit.”

By agents, you were sure that he’d meant McCree. Shimada tended to stick to Ziegler, and O’Deorain took care of herself, with no one daring to ask any questions.

“Oh…uh, that’s okay. They can come whenever they want, it’s my job.”

_No, don’t say that! Who the fuck says that?_

Thankfully, a cough from McCree drew the commander’s attention away from you and your increasingly sweaty palms. Standing up, he said, “Guess it’s time to scram.”

Reyes stepped back. “You guessed right.”

“See you around, doc.”

After you watched them go, the tension left your body, and you focused on getting back to your neglected lunch.

_Poor McCree._

Whatever that was, you hoped that it wasn’t a precursor to his commander chewing him out. You were sure that he was probably on the receiving end of a lot of lectures.

Your musings were immediately interrupted by a tray slamming down opposite you.

“Finally. I thought he’d never leave, and I’d have to eat lunch all by my lonesome.”

Dr. Hoa Nguyen, a woman who was both patron saint and scourge of hapless interns. And apparently, a woman who had been scoping out the mildly bizarre conversation you’d just had with McCree and his terrifying CO.

“What—were you watching the whole time?”

Your friend-slash-colleague settled down, taking a delicate bite of her pastry. “Not the _whole_ time. But I saw enough.”

“Oh, god, don’t say it. I’m already trying to forget that I said that to Reyes.”

“ _No,_ idiot, I was talking about the blatant flirting between you and the wannabe John Wayne. And when I say _I_ saw this, I really meant that me and half the room saw it. I’d watch your shampoo, if I were you.”

If Nguyen were the type to smirk, you were sure she would’ve.

“So, what? McCree flirts with everyone. That’s why half the base is convinced they have a shot at him. Actually, I’m surprised it isn’t in the orientation packet by now.” Your tone was nonchalant, as it well should be. It wasn’t any of your business who McCree had his sights on. This was an international peacekeeping force, not high school.

“ _Tch._ And I’m sure he visits half the base at all hours of the day to have a chat.”

“That’s different. He’s a patient.”

“Whatever. Don’t say I didn’t tell you. Anyway, I know we have a no work talk policy at lunch, but I just need a teensy bit of advice. Remember that Wellington kid that kept throwing heart-eyes at you? Anyway, he's throwing a strop - and don't apologize, it's not _your_ problem he's never been told no in his life - do you think the higher-ups would mind if I...”

* * *

After that, you became acutely aware of the gossip that began to link you with McCree. How long it had been floating around, you couldn’t say, but after Nguyen had pointed it out, it got old real quick.

It also definitely didn’t help that McCree took that brief lunchtime encounter as a sign to talk to you outside of the medbay more often. In the mess hall, outside the gym, in the leisure areas, even when you were getting your third cup of coffee at 4am.

Not that you minded even a little bit. But the whispers _were_ getting bolder and bolder, and it was…not optimal. And somehow, those pesky little errant thoughts were coming up a lot stronger outside of the office. Sometimes you thought you could sense _something_ color his tone, something that made your heart skip a beat.

But that was just probably because you’d let the whispered remarks affect you a little too much.

That’s why you lurked outside of the shooting range one night. You knew for a fact that a lot of other agents tended to avoid his midnight sessions, which was ideal. In this case, no audience was the best audience.

“McCree,” you said by way of greeting as he finally appeared. After looking around to make sure that the two of you were truly alone, you were surprised to see a smile on his face that was almost blinding in its brilliance.

“Well, lucky me. What’s the occasion, doc?”

“I need to talk to you.”

“Evidently,” he said, drawing out the first syllable with that oh-so-familiar amusement.

Thank goodness McCree wasn’t one to worry about things like tact. That meant you could dive right into it.

“You need to stop that.”

“Stop what?”

“Flirting with me like that, in public. I know you don’t mean anything when saying things like that, but people are starting to make up rumors.”

There it was, that look that made your heart-rate speed up. His initial amusement was replaced by something much more intense.

“Now who’s saying that?”

“Just five minutes ago, on the way over here! From the IT department as well, I don’t even know any of them.”

“Not what I meant,” McCree replied, not looking the slightest bit fazed. He might as well have punched you in the gut, that’s how much of an effect his voice had on your body.

_Jesus Christ, get yourself together._

Why were you so nervous? This was McCree, the person you’d shared an easy camaraderie with during the countless conversations you’d had with him. You’d been so sure that his glib flirting had just been part of the banter. But now, with _that look_ …

_No. Don't get carried away._

“Well, it’s not like I have the time to compile a list of who’s gossiping. And what are you going to do about it anyway, track them down and intimidate them into shutting up?”

“Hm.”

Funny, you’d been the one to corner him, and now you were the one that wanted to run. But you couldn’t seem to move an inch.

“My apologies, doc. I should’ve been more clear. What I _meant_ is,” he said, punctuating his words by taking a step towards you. If you reached out at right now, you’d be able to take hold of his serape. A warmth began to spread through your body. “Who says I don’t mean nothing when I ‘say things like that’?”

_Oh._

“S-so, you mean—”

“Yeah.”

He didn’t move any closer, but he didn’t need to; you could see the sudden uncertainty in his eyes as he waited for your next move.

“I didn’t realize.”

A huff of laughter, but it was markedly devoid of the lightheartedness you were accustomed to. “That so? Then I guess you’re ‘bout the last person to find out.”

_Holy shit._

“Oh. Um.”

For all your smarts, your big galaxy brain had to take a minute to reboot from this revelation.

Unfortunately, McCree took your silence the wrong way. “Huh. I thought—nevermind. I’ll stop. Didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, doc.”

“Wait!”

You grabbed his arm before he could walk away. Your mind was still working at half-capacity, but you couldn’t let the conversation end like this.

“Honestly, I didn’t realize!”

The only response you got was a raised eyebrow, so you searched for a better explanation. Something that would make sense of the million thoughts firing off in your mind.

“It’s not that I’m _not_ interested, it’s just, you know…I figured that you talked like that with everyone.”

He sucked in a breath, and you realized that your hand was still on his arm. Though you hastily retracted it, he took another step forward.

“You’re not everyone.”

Yet another step, and the two of you were pretty much chest to chest. It was impossible for him to know how fast your heart was beating, but you wondered if he could hear it, all the same.

A thought struck you. “So for the last few months, when you came to my office?”

At that, he laughed. “I know my way round a bandaid, doc. Just figured first aid works better when I’m in _your_ company.”

“ _McCree._ ” The exasperation was somewhat mitigated by the glowing feeling at his admission that all those times, it was to see _you_.

Another laugh escaped him, brighter than the one before it, and you let yourself drink in the sound. You’d heard it a million times by that point, but _now,_ it took on another dimension.

What a relief, to not have to tamp down the thoughts that you’d convinced yourself would lead to an unrequited crush.

“The name’s Jesse.”

You were still caught up in the way he threw his shoulders back when he laughed, so all you could say was, “What?”

“Jesse,” he said again, brushing his thumb against your cheek, slowly, hesitantly. It took all of your willpower not to lean into his palm. “Y’can’t…don’t call me McCree. Not now.”

“Jesse,” you said, savoring the sound.

You were rewarded with a dazzling smile and you own name falling from his lips.

And just like that, you couldn’t take it anymore. Just as he placed his other hand on your waist, you grabbed the front of his shirt and yanked his mouth down to your own.

Warm, chapped lips moved against yours, as he pulled you even closer and deepened the kiss. Smoke, leather, cologne, a scent that was unmistakeably _Jesse_ wrapped around you, as you melted into his embrace. The whole base could’ve walked past at that moment, and you wouldn’t have given a single fuck, because Jesse McCree was kissing you.

All too soon, you had to pull away with a small gasp, lightheaded and giddy.

“Well, this isn’t how I thought the conversation would go.” You decided then and there that being in his arms was going to be one of your favorite pastimes. “That’s one more kiss than I predicted, for sure.”

“Oh, was _that_ a kiss?” he said. Jesse was, as you noted with some satisfaction, just as breathless as you were.

“Yep,” you replied, giving him another quick kiss on the tip of his nose. “Why, have you forgotten already?”

“Mm, maybe so. I _might_ need a refresher, if you don’t mind me sayin’. Just _one_ more, to be sure.”

_Incorrigible flirt,_ you smiled to yourself, as he found your lips once again.

* * *

‘One more kiss’ turned to another, and another, until at some point, the two of you stumbled back to your quarters.

_Is this real?_

That was the only coherent thought that you’d had since falling onto your bed. Nothing else was relevant, not when Jesse was braced on top of you, setting your nerves aflame. Somewhere on the floor lay his serape, his hat, your lab coat, all things that were detestable enough to get in the way.

You could stay here forever, lying under him as he whispered sweet nothings against your flushed skin, one hand stroking your waist, your thighs, every inch he could reach.

“You’re so beautiful, darlin’.”

The constant endearments only made you warmer, and _God,_ his beard was providing just the right amount of friction, and you could’ve sworn that his lips were leaving an actual trail of fire down your neck—

“ _Jesse_.” It would have been so easy to be embarrassed at the tiny gasp that escaped your lips as he sucked at a particularly sensitive point.

“Hm?” You couldn’t see his face, but you could _feel_ him smiling against your neck. Smug bastard. “What was that?”

“Shut up.” The annoyance in your voice was barely even half-hearted, and it was gone the _second_ McCree decided to move his maddening exploration to your collarbone.

His hands were trailing up your torso now, slipping underneath the fabric of your shirt and _just_ brushing over the material of your bra. 

“Can I?” he whispered, and you nodded, desperate for more contact – you needed to be as close as was humanly possible, to feel him with every inch of your being. 

As quickly as you could, you helped him pull off your clothing. As he tossed the offending materials away, he fixed his eyes on your bare chest and exhaled slowly.

This time, his voice was more akin to a growl.

“Fuck, you're beautiful,” were the only words that left him, and then Jesse had his mouth on you again, licking and sucking every part of you he could reach, biting down to leave bruises that marked you as _his_.

“Jesse, I need to feel you,” you moaned, fingers working on the fastenings of his gear even as he continued, and _shit,_ he was starting to kiss his way down your stomach, and you _knew_ what he was going to do, and oh _fuck_ – he’d slipped off your pants and his head was between your legs and he was looking at you with such intensity that you had to break away from his gaze.

“Jesse, _please,_ just— _oh._ ” Fisting your hands in the bedsheets, your head fell back on the pillow and you surrendered to the pleasure.

Moans, _your_ moans, filled the room as he began to eat you out, taking his sweet fucking time as his tongue explored your folds, traced around your clit, as he drove you to the edge of madness in the process. You thought your heart would give out from the pleasure and the anticipation.

Pulling his mouth away for just a second, Jesse kissed your inner thigh, speaking once more in that delicious voice of his. “No need to be shy, sweetheart.”

Just as you looked down at him to say that you _weren’t_ being shy, he lowered his head and began to work your clit in earnest. Only this time, he sank a finger in at the same time, groaning aginst your pussy as you clenched around him.

“ _Fuck,_ darlin’, you feel so fucking _good._ ” The praise sent another jolt of pleasure through your spine, but you needed more, much more, and tangled your fingers through his hair.

“ _Please_ , Jesse—”

At the sound of his name and your breathless need, any and all restraint was a thing of the past; Jesse dropped any pretense of teasing, and you spiraled into a delirium of pleasure made more and more intense by every lick, every thrust of his fingers.

The world was only Jesse, taking you apart with that wicked tongue of his – it was the way his hair felt in your hands as you pressed him to your cunt as close as you can, it was the aroused moans that slipped out of him as you tensed up and clamped your thighs around his face and oh, _oh—_

Your stomach swooped and the orgasm shuddered through you, back arching off the bed as your mouth parted in a silent scream.

After easing you through the aftershocks, he began making his way back up your body. As he pressed his forehead against yours, he gave you a single chaste kiss that was completely at odds with how he just shattered your reality.

“That was…wow.”

“Seems you enjoyed that even more than I did,” he said, grinning down at you. Completely self-satisfied, of course; for good reason too, given that your voice was hoarse and you probably looked completely wrecked under him, sweaty and panting.

Not trusting yourself to speak again, you wound your arms around his neck and pulled him in for a languid kiss; he happily complied, smiling against your mouth as he cradled your face in his hand, an observation that sent butterflies through your stomach.

As the kiss deepened and your heartrate settled down, you became keenly aware of his arousal pressing up against your inner thigh.

_Well, that won’t do._

Pulling away slightly, you whispered, “My turn.”

Flipping him over, you swung your leg over his body and straddled him; Jesse’s hands settled on your hips as he looked at you, entranced by the way you began to rock against him. Remembering how he teased you so torturously, you decided to take your time.

“Enjoying the view?”

Leaning forward slightly, with your hands on his chest, you continued to grind slowly, taking note of the way his grip got noticeably tighter and his breathing quickened.

“That a trick question, sweetheart?”

Well, if he liked what he saw, you’d give him a show.

Biting your lip, you began to trail a finger down his abs, admiring the way they flexed under your touch. Jesse followed your progress with hungry eyes, lips slightly open as you slowly began to trace up your own body; a soft groan escaped him as you began fondling your breasts.

“ _C’mon,_ baby, that’s just not fair.”

Putting on your most innocent smile, you pinched your nipple and let out a quiet, breathy moan.

“ _Fuck._ ” He tried to sit up, hands sliding up your waist as he began to pull your chest towards his mouth, but one of your hands shot out to keep him down.

“I said it was my turn, didn’t I, Jesse?”

You bit back a laugh at his answering groan, but with the way he was staring at you, drinking you in as you continued to grind yourself against his throbbing length, it wasn’t long before that delicious pressure was no longer enough.

You needed _more._

Sliding down his body, making sure to mark your journey with hot, openmouthed kisses, you were finally, _finally_ between his legs, eye level with the angry bulge at his crotch. Impatiently, you pulled off his trousers, yanked down his boxers, and—

_Oh, fuck._

Jesse was _gorgeous_ , thick and heavy and flushed at the tip. As you imagined the way he’d feel on your tongue, in your mouth, your pussy clenched; of course he caught the way you’d been rendered almost speechless by arousal.

“Like what you see, d— _fuck!_ ”

He cut himself off with a hiss of pleasure, as you chose that moment to take hold of his shaft and lick a long stripe from base to tip.

Already craving the way he moaned, the way he tasted, you began in earnest, gently laving your tongue over every inch of his cock. You could already taste the precum that was leaking from his tip, making your head spin.

Shit, it hadn’t been long since you’d cum, but hearing the way Jesse gasped and feeling him twitch on your tongue made you _ache_. Once his shaft was spit-slick, you moved to swirl his tip in your mouth, looking up at him just as you gave an experimental suck – the effect was immediate.

“You feel so good, darlin’,” Jesse whimpered, caressing the back of your head with his warm, warm hands. “You _look_ so good, with that pretty mouth of yours—”

He kept talking even when you began to bob your throat, taking in as much of him as you could.

He kept talking even when you moaned around his cock, pumping the rest of his length in your hand with firm, smooth strokes as he bucked up into your mouth, his words coming in increasingly choked gasps.

He kept talking even when you finally eased all of him down your throat, though his praises were almost nonsensical now, his hands gripping you almost to the point of pain. You couldn’t help but moan as he tugged on your hair and gave a particularly sharp thrust, bringing tears to your eyes as you choked on his length.

The taste and feel of him was addicting, and you chased it fervently, loving the way he stuffed your mouth full, as you cradled his balls and scratched down his muscled thighs.

“S-shit, darlin’, I’m not—I’m gonna—”

“Are you gonna come, Jesse?” you whispered, releasing him with a quiet _pop_ and looking up at him with half-lidded eyes, pumping his slick shaft with your hands once more. “You can do it wherever you want. Anywhere you want.”

“Fuck,” he almost snarled, and you went faster, his dick getting even _harder_ as he tensed. “Y-your—your tits, I want, can I—”

You didn’t speak, only leaning up slightly as you kept stroking him, making sure he had a good view of your flushed chest, relishing the way he panted, the way he dropped his head back and flexed his muscles as he thrust once, twice…

It was after a deft twist of your wrist that he came with a long groan, shooting white, pearly streams of cum that you made sure to aim just where he’d wanted it.

“Holy _fuck_ ,” he gasped as he opened his eyes. You were sitting up on your knees now, chest heaving as you could _feel_ the way he was staring at the mess he’d made of you.

What else was there left to do, except snake your hands across your breasts and lick his cum off your fingers? And so you did just that, as he propped himself up on his elbows and watched, slightly open-mouthed.

God, the way he gazed at you made you feel like the most beautiful person on Earth.

“Gonna be the death of me, darlin’.” He pulled you back up into his arms, peppering your face with kisses. “Almost had a damn heart attack, with that little show you put on for me.”

“Knew you’d enjoy it,” you said, stealing one last kiss, smiling as he began to stroke your hair. It was definitely later than it should be, but you were unwilling to sleep just yet.

“Jesse?”

“Mm?” Jesse’s tone was deep and raspy, and the mere sound of his voice was beginning to trigger another wave of arousal. But you had at least one thing to say before any other potential rounds.

“Next time, just ask me for coffee?”

He shook with muted laughter, and you felt his lips ghost across the top of your head.

“How ‘bout tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow it is.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short little part two I stress wrote as I hit writer's block with everything else. Please enjoy!

2 hours.

You'd waited for your boyfriend to touch down at base for the better part of _2 hours_. Any embarrassment at being _that_ type of significant other disappeared as soon as you saw the face you’d missed so badly, heart lifting at the sight of his figure making his way off the ramp. Unfortunately, that embarrassment promptly returned as he broke into a sprint and twirled you around in a giant hug, unaware or uncaring that several spectators were whooping and whistling. 

“Jesse!”

His name came out as part-laugh, part-admonishment – the sight of him breaking into that wonderful smile was too precious to really get annoyed at.

“I missed you, darlin’.” Gently setting you down, he planted a sweet kiss on your cheek. “Let’s get outta here.”

* * *

Somehow, ‘getting outta there’ translated into the two of you stumbling down a back corridor, grabbing at each other with a desperation that had festered over two long weeks.

“Shit, I missed you too,” you whispered between fervent kisses. Your hands were operating under a mind of their own, dancing under his shirt, snaking around his back to pull him closer.

Jesse sucked a series of bruises just under your jaw, just the way you liked it. “Mm, couldn’t stop thinking about you.” To punctuate his point, he grabbed your ass; in response, you hiked your legs around his waist, wrapping yourself around him as he walked you backwards into the wall.

_Fuck, that’s hot._

Caged in like this, with the wall at your back and the corded muscles of Jesse’s arms holding you up, kissing him like your life depended on it - it was everything you'd needed for the past few weeks.

You knew that neither of you could wait. It was _impossible_ to wait. Both of your rooms were too far away when Jesse was grinding against you and you were both aching with need.

“Put me down.” Your voice was so thick with arousal it was almost laughable. As soon as your feet hit the ground, you grazed your fingers against his clothed erection, your arousal spiking as you felt him get even harder under your touch. Jesse was all too happy to let you shove his pants down, and then you were pulling him out of his boxers, running your thumb over his tip and listening to the way his breath stuttered as you pumped his shaft.

“I need you inside me, Jesse,” you murmured.

“You’re really somethin’, sweetheart.”

Jesse undid your jeans, and you wasted no time, whipping around and bracing your hand against the wall, whimpering as he shoved your underwear aside and slipped a finger into your center.

“You’re fucking _wet_ for me, aren’t you?” he crooned in your ear, placing hot kisses on your neck as you ground down against his palm. He added another finger, and you couldn’t take it anymore, hands balling into fists from anticipation.

“Come _on_ , Jesse!” It was half-shout, half-whisper, and the bastard _laughed._

“Shh, baby, d’you wanna get caught?”

His voice was rough, needy, the words sending a shiver down your spine, spiking your pleasure tenfold. The thought that someone could round the corner at any minute, that anyone could witness the way that Jesse was slicking his cock so that he could _take_ you, that anyone could see how well he crammed his length into you as he fucked you against the wall—

Jesse groaned as he began to sheathe himself inside your cunt; your eyes almost rolled to the back of your head as you savored the way he felt, hot and thick and filling you so beautifully.

“Fuck,” he panted, head falling onto your shoulder as he hilted himself inside you. “Fuck, fuck, _fuck._ ”

You were breathless, clenching around him, already dizzy with pleasure even though he hadn’t even done anything yet.

And then he started to move.

Drawing back, he started an absolutely punishing pace, driving his cock into you as deep as could with each brutal thrust.

“ _Oh,_ Jesse, oh, _fuck,”_ you gasped when you remembered how to breathe through the fucking, forgetting the need to be quiet. He only grunted, the hands on your hips tightening; and then Jesse gave your ass a firm slap.

“ _Yes!_ ”

You jerked backwards, begging him to be spanked again. Jesse’s hips stuttered, but only briefly, and then he smacked you once more – one hand came up and clamped around your mouth, muffling your pleasure, but that only made you more wet, more needy.

“You like that, sweetheart?” he groaned from behind you, licking a warm, wet stripe up the back of your neck, as he spanked you one more time, thrusting even _harder_. “Fuck, course you did. So fucking…you…d’you know what you do to me?”

Frantically nodding, you moaned into his hand.

The hand that was at your mouth drifted down, rolling your nipple between his fingers as Jesse railed into you, and you knew you were close, that familiar knot of pleasure was building, you just needed a little bit _more—_

Grabbing his wrist, you shoved his hand down to your pussy and he began to draw tight circles around your clit.

_Shit, I’m gonna—_

Honest-to-god stars exploded behind your eyelids as you came _hard,_ and Jesse cursed, picking up the pace as he fucked you through it, chasing his own high, and it was all you could do to hold yourself up as your climax rocked through your body.

“Sweetheart, I—” Jesse stuttered, and you could tell he was going to pull out, but the tiny sliver of your mind that was still coherent couldn’t stand the thought of that.

“N-no,” you said, voice still shaking from your orgasm as your hand reached back. “Inside—”

That was all the invitation he needed before pushing back into your cunt, and then he was groaning, your pussy clenching around his throbbing length as he came, and fuck, it always felt so fucking good to have Jesse spill inside you like that.

“The death of me,” Jesse said in an accusatory tone, once he caught his breath.

It was all you could do to give a hoarse laugh as the two of you righted your clothes as best you could.

“So…my room or yours?”

* * *

Miraculously, both of you had just enough self control to make it back to his quarters, though the patience didn’t stretch very far.

“Jesse!” In the process of undressing you, Jesse tore through yet another one of your shirts.

“I’ll get you another one.” Unrepentant, he took a break from kissing you silly to toss the material somewhere behind him. “Buy you a hundred more, long as you let me rip ‘em off you.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” you said, wiggling out of your ruined underwear. If this was how every mission ended, then you'd run out of clothes in record time; you were sure that Jesse wouldn't mind in the slightest.

Now that the two of you were finally naked, Jesse nudged your knees apart. Moving down the bed, he began kissing your breasts, your stomach, your hipbone, and suddenly his mouth was at your center, lapping broad, lazy strokes up and down your folds.

“O-oh!”

You grabbed his hair, squeezing your eyes shut as he began tracing your clit with his tongue – you tried to clamp your legs together, too, but he held you open, forcing you to ride out the stimulation in its full force.

It had been barely five minutes since you’d come around his cock, but he was seemingly determined to coax another climax from you then and there.

“R-right there, yes, oh fuck!”

Jesse pressed his face even deeper, his fast, relentless flicks across your oversensitive clit rocketing you higher and higher in ecstasy—

And then he crooked two fingers inside you, tapping on your G-spot and your whole body went rigid as you fell apart for him, white spotting your vision.

Perhaps you screamed. You were too preoccupied to listen.

After you managed to regain coherence _,_ you found yourself staring up at the ceiling. At some point, Jesse had stretched out next to you.

“That must be some sort of record,” you said, finally able to look at him, his face tantalizingly slick with your arousal.

“Mm, just needed to taste you,” he said, making a show of cleaning off his fingers. “Been a while.”

Your second – or was it third? – wave of energy came almost immediately. 

Pulling him up, you guided him into a sitting position on the bed. As you straddled him, you weren’t surprised to find that he was hard again.

“You’re insatiable, Jesse.”

“How could I not, when I got someone like you in my lap?”

As always, the compliment brought a slight blush to your cheeks. He was shameless in his praise, and the scant few months of dating him still hadn’t been enough to get used to.

“Flirt,” you mumbled.

“You like it,” he replied, pulling you in for another kiss.

Hands on his shoulders, rolling against his strong thighs in smooth, steady motions, you hummed in satisfaction, lips parting as his tongue prodded gently against you, languid in his exploration of your mouth.

Before long, you were sighing with happiness as you sank down onto his cock, taking your time, relishing the feel of him inside you.

You loved riding him like this, so slow and unhurried now that the edge of desperation had been fucked down. Jesse’s large hands roamed your body, tracing a path from your breasts to your shoulder blades, down to your hips and your thighs, as he watched you with hungry eyes.

Beautiful. He made you feel beautiful.

But soon, just watching wasn’t enough for him. Jesse began to lavish attention on your chest, sucking one stiff nipple, then the other, then biting down on the softness of your breast, an action you repaid by scratching your nails down his abs.

His breathing quickened and Jesse began to move, meeting your hips as you ground down on him. Leaning in, you dragged your nails down his back, sucking a dark bruise onto his pulse point, knowing what it did to him, _needing_ him to both lose control and take it from you.

“ _Sweetheart,_ ” Jesse groaned, the endearment slipping out of his mouth, and then he was planting his feet and thrusting up into you proper, bouncing you up and down his lap as he fucked up into you.

Tears were coming to your eyes, because it felt so good, he was _so good,_ the words coming out of your mouth in choked sobs as you clutched his shoulders and held on for dear life.

“More,” you gasped, needing him deeper. “Jesse, I need more, I—”

Jesse growled, and then your world spun and you found yourself lying on your back once more. He draped your legs over the crooks of his elbows, and lined himself up to you one more time.

 _Fuck_.

The angle let him fuck you hard and deep, his cock hitting just the right spot, his thrusts as strong as they had been in the corridor, but slower, much slower, letting you feel every inch of him drag out of your center before plunging back in.

It was _so much,_ with him inside you and around you, filling your world with his presence, his words; he was praising you again, telling you how good you were, how tight and hot you were, how much he loved you…

A quiet, powerful orgasm swept up your spine, washing through you before you could warn him, but you knew he could feel the way your cunt got impossibly tight around him - that proved to be the thing that pushed him over the edge.

“I—baby, I’m gonna come, I’m—”

Speaking was beyond you right now, so you cradled his face between your hands and gave him a searing, open-mouthed kiss.

Jesse shuddered, hilting himself one more time as he came inside you, warmth seeping into you once more. Panting, he collapsed let go of your legs and fairly collapsed onto you.

“Urgh, Jesse,” you managed to squeak, pushing weakly at his shoulders. “Heavy.”

“Sorry,” he groaned, rolling over.

Subconsciously, you followed his movement, unwilling to let him pull out of you just yet. Throwing an arm over his upper body, you began to surrender to your exhaustion.

As he did every night you were together, Jesse held you quietly as you drifted off to sleep. In your dreams, though they were as jumbled as ever, you were still in Jesse's embrace, safe and warm as he whispered those three words that you'd heard for the first time that night.

"I love you."

 _Tomorrow,_ were your last thoughts as oblivion overtook you. _I'll tell him tomorrow._


End file.
